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1. Character Name: Marrionette Rossueau
2. Character Birthdate (including year): April 1, 2007
3. Whether s/he is a regular wolf or a Luperci: Luperci; from birth
4. Species: Canis simensis
5. Gender: Male
6. A secondary form of contact (AIM, MSN, Y!M). AIM: TragediesOfPast
7. How did you learn/hear about 'Souls?: Ad on WWS
The rather slim boy wasn't certain exactly how he had ended up here. Ah, the places your paws took you when you allowed them to lead. Allowed them to wander as they would. The places that they showed you when you allowed them to do so. There were wonderful sights out there once you allowed yourself to view them. And he had spent the year doing that. It was family tradition. You left home at one year old and went to see the world. And course those that took up the pilgrimage were never heard from again. Spiritual walks were never completed. And how did he feel about it? Well he hadn't wanted to leave. But like a puppet on a string he walked away from the lands of birth to make his own way in the world. He had left behind the favoring of a fellow russet and cream canine in order to take the mandatory journey. For all he knew it was a walk that every wolf must take when they came of age. How strange would it be to find out that there were actually places where families remained together.
Feet dabbled into the water as way up the coast was made. The lapping froth didn't alleviate the soreness as would be hoped. And so what to do? Well it was simple. Just a few missteps and a purposeful stumble ended up with him on his hands. Perhaps he looked rather silly to others of the area. Assuming that there were others about. He thought that tuft of grass was marked or something. But with the small waves it was impossible to tell. Already his steps had started to be erased. And how did he know? With just the correct tilt of his head he could see where he had been. And then another slight tilt will show where he is going. And then yet another one made it appear as if the world had fallen onto its side. It was this new perspective that caused a fit a laughter to quake his body. And of course cause him to quickly have to catch himself least he should fall.
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[html] From what I read, your character didn't stop at the borders, so I went along with that. Excuse Jefferson's grumpiness as a result, though... walking around on claimed lands is a bad idea. ^^;
It had been quite some time since Jefferson had thrown his voice at strangers. Husk had been sent away and never heard from again, while Whinifred had endured his crude shouting and stayed in the pack regardless (and continued to bug him, in fact). On top of it all, Jefferson was a bastard and an asshole, but he typically took lightly to strangers who respected their borders and seemed to be of no harm. He wasn't all monster, he was just partially such; there was a bit of compassion and sympathy within the one-eyed Patriarch, but unfortunately, it ran thin when it came to strangers roaming his packland.
Despite the rushing waters and the ocean breeze, Jefferson had picked up on an unfamiliar scent from a distance and promptly took off after it, two-legged and one-armed, only to find that its owner had wandered into the territory, presumably unnoticed. With the current struggles with Inferni and his children at his throat, the cyclops could take no risks: he found the stranger quickly and stopped him, a sharp and relentless look in his single green eye. "You'd better have a damn good reason to be traipsing on claimed land," the Patriarch snarled. "Start talking."
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It had been quite some time since he had spoken to another. The last had been Opium. No, not the plant. The kookaburra. No matter what he said Opium would laugh at him. And Genocide would just repeat everything. They were always fighting so he had to leave behind his avian friends. If only they had stopped their bickering then they could have followed him. But it seemed now that he had to make new friends. Had Harle been able to do the same? Which direction had the friend from pack life taken? Wouldn't it be a riot if his friend was in the area too?
His tread upon the coast stopped as a sudden massive and furry shape stepped into the way. "Hurry! Throw your hand down and catch yourself from falling!" Words were clipped out as in his skewed view of the world it seemed as if the other were about to fall right into the sky. And while he might be silly he wasn't stupid per say. The sharp words had him turning off that giggle fit. Still he couldn't help one last remark from the abstract side of things. "I had thought to walk on water but it is quite slippery and continues to get away." Well he had been walking in the surf and simply hadn't thought that the large body of water could claimed.
"What a powerful and magnificent beast you must be to lay claim over the sea. What can a simple peasant such as myself do to appease Mi'Lord?" How strange was it that he found it easy to hold a conversation while still resting upon his hands. Actually he traveled further distances upon his hands then he did on his feet. His feet just seemed to give out quicker than his hands did. It was just another detail to add to the mad world of Marrionette Rossueau.
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Phoenix Valley, in his own words, was a pack of misfits and dreamers somehow finding solace with one another. It was a generally quieter pack despite its unruly leadership and its members typically kept to themselves; conflicts such as that with Inferni were very rare, and even so, the tension between the pack and the coyote clan were starting to die down. DaVinci knew of his boundaries now, having been the key element to the discord, and Jefferson had hoped things would slowly return to normal. Of course, being the leader and the ambassador of sorts, the cyclops was the pack's guardian and hawkeye. Somehow, he always got stuck with the loonies. This one was no different, evidently.
His scowl lengthened at the stranger's abstract remarks, some sort of concoction between mindless ramblings and shortsightedness. The brute smelled no Inferni on him, however, and simply thinned his eye in suspicion, even as the stranger flipped upside down and giggled stupidly from there. "You can high-tail it out of here, for one," the cyclops replied, unfazed. "Right-side up or upside-down, I don't care which."
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If that was the truth then he ought to fit right in. Many thought him addled. Did that make him a genius? Newton and Einstein and other great minds of history were thought to be addled. Or maybe he was just Chicken Little screaming about the sky falling. That kid really was crazy. It was a toss up really. Genius or some mental disease yet to be found. It could be either or at this point. Thought perhaps the latter seemed to have more foundation.
Especially as ears stood erect as if he had heard something. And not that of the Patriarch's voice either. Something off to the side and into the ocean were he was suddenly staring with a tilt to his head as if he was listening to some sort of conversation. "I don't know... I don't think he looks half bad." There was a pause as if he was listening to some sort of unspoken response, seemingly having forgotten about the at least twice older wolf. Especially when he started out laughing again and shaking his head. "I don't think he will appreciate it if I started humping his leg just because the scars make him appear more rugged and handsome."
But then suddenly he seemed to sober up quickly as head snapped back around to look at the wolf that was still waiting on him to scamper off. Feet dropped back to the ground but he didn't bother to rise. Instead he fell to hands and knees before the reigning wolf. Head bowed low and tongue stuck out in order to attempt to lick at the older canine's feet. "One begs sanctuary Grand Sire. If only in passing. One was taught that only forward steps are acceptable. There is no reverse in the flow of time and so reverse should not be applied to one's life." The boy remained in a kneeling position upon the ground as he spoke softly.
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He sighed audibly, rather uninterested in the rantings of the forlorn. The brute could only stroke stressfully at his brow when the fellow continued on with something about humping and handsome scars, something that Jefferson would normally have argued against but unsurprisingly felt no reason to in such a situation. Regardless, either the stranger was a little wronged in the cranium or was an all-out loony, either of which seemed feasible, and although the man on the ground appeared to be harmless despite such insanity, Jefferson knew from personal experience to never let a guard down with someone so unpredictable.
He sort of collapsed down into some sort of heap, licking at the Patriarch's feet. The cyclops quickly stepped back to avoid it and groaned. "For God's sake, man, get off the ground and get to the point." Jefferson had never been one for complications and beating around the bush; he mentioned sanctuary, if not only temporarily, and the Patriarch went with that. "I'm not sure here is a good place for you," he judged, scowling, obviously put at edge by the uncanny behavior he was witnessing. Phoenix Valley might have been a home for dreamers, but not for complete loonies. "You don't have me impressed, anyway." If anyone was to be the blunt one in the conversation, it was to be Jefferson, after all.
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